Who You Gonna Call?
by The Luggage
Summary: They ain't 'fraid of no ghosts!  ...Wait, what?  Featuring a Hawke who is less than impressed with Varric and his little exorcising expedition.  One shot!


**AN:** First DA2 fic, so yay me! Also, this game is unbelievably bad at feeding the plot bunnies. So, um, here, have a rogueHawke ficlet. ...Ooh, right. Spoilers for Acts 2 and 3, so don't say I didn't warn you.

**Disclaimer:** Not mine, otherwise you'd better believe there would have been a few changes, oh yes.

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><p>Rob knows, she just <em>knows<em> this is an incredibly stupid idea as soon as Varric says the house might possibly maybe be haunted. It had been bad enough clearing the house of Bartrand's crazy henchguards the first time, but that had just been a regular, run-of-the-mill psycho-with-a-deadly-artifact-playing-god. Again. Funny, how often that seemed to happen… But ghosts, now…they are going to be a problem.

She hopes her panic doesn't show on her face as he asks for her help de-ghostifying the mansion, but she's obviously not as good as she thinks, because he pauses mid-sentence to ask if she's okay.

Embarrassingly, Rob's voice cracks and squeaks as she tries to stammer, "F-fine, I'm fine. No problems here!"

Fantastic. Now not only is Varric suspicious, Fenris is narrowing his eyes at her. She clears her throat, avoids making eye contact and takes a long, fortifying gulp of ale.

Rob tries again. "No, really, I'm fine. Just can't believe your sucker – I mean buyer – actually thinks the house might be haunted!" She laughs, and although it comes out slightly high and strained, only Rob seems to notice. She hopes.

It does seem to do the trick, as Varric laughs, and then continues detailing the problems with the house. Fenris, of course, is not as easily sidetracked, but he holds his tongue for now. Rob figures even if he confronts her about it later in private, she'll be able to distract him much more…thoroughly.

They leave the tavern, eventually, and even though Rob tries to put it off, Varric is politely insistent that they go clear out that wretched mansion. She'd love to put it off forever, but…argh, Varric has been a loyal friend, and he deserves no less than her full support. It's just unfortunate it had to be this one specific problem. Anything else, she could have handled! Dragons? Pfft, a trifle. Abominations and shades? They are as mere striplings before the might of Rob Hawke and her companions! But ghosts? Rob would very much prefer to be under a blanket in her closet, rather than face a single, simple spirit.

She has to explain as much, alas, when they've entered Bartrand's mansion and she is clinging for dear life on Anders' back, arms tight around his neck. For the third time. And maybe whimpering, but she'll deny that to her dying day. Fenris is decidedly not amused. She can tell, because he's flipping his dagger handle to blade, blade to handle, over and over again. And…growling? Really?

Varric snorts, drawing her attention. "So…let me get this straight. You'll enter the Fade to help a boy who might be one of the most powerful, unique mages in a hundred years – against my advice, as I recall – you'll take on a high dragon because…oh, what was it you said, 'It was there!' and you'll go up against blood mage after blood mage with nary a second thought, but you're scared of one measly little ghost. Really, Hawke?"

Rob clambers down from Anders' back, blushing the whole time, and blithely ignoring his over exaggerated coughing and gagging. She hadn't held on for that long, he really is such a drama queen.

She has no idea how to explain this without coming across as a bit of a fool, but ah well. They wanted to know, and it was Varric who dragged her into this mess.

"See…and this is going to sound so foolish, and I know you're going to laugh, but please bear with me. When we lived in Ferelden, and Father was alive, we had a little tradition. Every seventhday, when all the chores were done, and Bethany was done studying with Father for the night, he'd tell the three of us stories until it was time for bed. And I loved them, I really did. He told us of the wondrous things in the Fade, the beautiful maps he'd studied in the Circle, and tales of the heroes of old. Unfortunately…" she trails off.

Anders smiles a little, Varric raises an eyebrow and gestures for her to go on, and Fenris doesn't do much of anything, except shift his weight a little. Rob sighs, pouts a little and continues.

"Unfortunately, little brats that they were, Bethy and Carver loved ghost stories, and the gorier the better! They wanted tale after tale of hauntings, restless spirits and angry ghosts that would torment anyone foolish enough to disturb them. I…didn't. They terrified me, and still do, and I just don't like them," Rob finishes in a rush.

She doesn't dare look up at her friends. That is, until she hears someone snort, trying to (badly) hold back a laugh. Rob whips her head up, ready to snarl at Varric, and is completely disarmed when she sees Fenris, hand over his mouth and shoulders shaking.

She's more shocked than hurt, at this point. Rob has seen Fenris smile, smirk and even tell bad jokes, and she knows he has a dry – very dry – sense of humour, but she's never seen him actually laugh before. Much longer, though, and she will be hurt. Rob likes to think she has a healthy ego and an excellent sense of humour, but this is really very personal.

He brings himself back under control, though, then excuses himself to Anders and Varric, and beckons her over to the door they just came through.

Rob goes, slightly reluctantly, and Fenris looks directly into her eyes before he says anything. Absently, she notes that he really does have such pretty eyes, and that it's such a shame he didn't really start making eye contact up till recently, she's missed so much of the pretty. Then she realizes his lips are moving, and she smiles guiltily.

"Could you, ah, start over? Sorry, I got distracted."

He smirks, which doesn't particularly help with the whole distraction thing.

"I said, I am sorry if I hurt your feelings. I was not laughing at you, merely laughing at the situation. You are intimidatingly capable at times, and it is, oddly, a bit of a relief to know that there is something you're scared of."

Rob sighs. "It's just that I'm supposed to be Hawke, Champion of Kirkwall, and according to the stories, not afraid of anything. And ghosts are such silly things to be scared of! I fought the Arishok in single combat, and he scared me a thousand times less than a floating book!"

"Do _not_ remind me," Fenris grumps. "That was not a pleasant experience, watching the duel, and being unable to help at all. I do not enjoy helplessness when you are…in danger."

"I still have that scar!" Rob laughs, and watches his eyes narrow.

"Stop trying to distract me, Hawke. We are not discussing your occasional bouts of recklessness, though that may come later." Fenris stops, and sighs a little. "You know I am…not good with words, not at times like this, but you must understand, there is nothing wrong with your fears. We have your back, and we – I will be there every step of the way."

Rob's stomach goes all gooey and melty, and only the knowledge that Varric is watching avidly stops her from grabbing Fenris and smooching him, right then and there. She does, however, lean forward and peck him on the lips. Then she laughs delightedly as his cheeks and nose go just a little bit red.

"Thanks," she says, and heads off to charge once more into the fray. She's stopped, though, when Fenris takes her hand. He doesn't let her turn around, just leans forward and growls into her ear, sending delicious shivers up and down her spine.

"No more grabbing Anders. If you need someone to hold onto, I'm right here."

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><p><strong>Notes:<strong> ...So yeah. Reviews and concrit are squeed over the way TV's Frank squees over Nummy Muffin Cocoa Butter, so please, review away!


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